The Depressing Reality of Christmas - Alone
by viv-heart
Summary: Christmas isn't merry for everyone. Let's not pretend otherwise. Sometimes you can't help yourself but to hate the holiday as it reminds you of all the things you have lost. But sometimes reminding yourself that you aren't alone with your feelings helps. Stay strong. With Love, your personal Grinch Part 2. Warnings Canon character death, alcoholism, depression
1. Severus 1

**Part two of my little Christmas series. I would be happy about any kind of feedback**

Snape 1 – after Lily ended their friendship

It was snowing. Severus didn't care. He stood still and let the snowflakes fall down on him. He didn't feel them set in his hair or melt on his skin. He really didn't.

The only thing he meant something to him, that he felt, was the ache for the girl in the house on the other side of the street. In the house he had been watching for what? Half an hour? He didn't know.

The only thing he truly knew was that he wanted her back. He wanted his friendship with Lily Evans back. But he knew that wouldn't happen. She was angry. Angry at him. Angry and hurt. And she blamed him. Even though it was Potter's fault! It was always Potter's fault! And if it wasn't, that it was the fault of Sirius Black!

Severus blinked. No, he didn't want to think about Potter and Black. He really didn't. Not now. No. He was here for Lily. He wanted to apologise. He should. Maybe there would be a Christmas Miracle and she would forgive him.

But what if there wasn't? What if she was just going to yell at him? Or worse – simply calmly close the door in front of his nose?

He couldn't bear that. It would destroy him. He should wait. He would wait till she calmed down. Till she forgot. Till she forgave. He would wait till next year. Even though he missed her. He missed her so bad. But he couldn't risk losing her forever. That's why he would give her time. That's why he would wait. And try next year.

Severus looked at the warm, lit house one last time before he averted his gaze and turned to walk home. Home – the empty cold building with nothing but his alcoholic of a father inside.


	2. Remus

Remus – after Voldemort's disappearance

Remus felt numb. It had been almost two moths since it happened but Remus still wasn't able to comprehend that it had happened even though him standing there in the middle of the street in the middle of London in the middle of the night on Christmas Eve was the immediate proof for it.

He still didn't want to believe that James was dead. That Peter was dead. And that Sirius was responsible for their deaths. He didn't want to believe it. And he couldn't. And yet he knew it was true.

Him standing in the middle of London all alone in the cold with nowhere to go was the immediate proof of it. Even though it felt like a nightmare. Maybe it was a nightmare? Maybe he had drunk too much with Pete or Sirius? Maybe everything that had happened since they finished Hogwarts had been just one very bad dream?

Everything but Harry, he thought. James' and Lily's little boy. An orphan now. With some muggles. Because his parents were dead. Because his godfather practically killed them. Because they other friend who could have taken them was dead as well.

And he couldn't take him. They wouldn't allow him to. Hell, he wasn't even able to care for himself. He was a bloody werewolf. A danger. They always reminded him of it. They always did.

Even Dumbledore. Even Dumbledore told him he couldn't. When he said that Sirius was the traitor. That they were all gone. That he was alone. That he wouldn't get to see the boy. That he couldn't.

Remus head was beginning to ache. His thoughts were racing and he hated it. He barely comprehended what he thought. The chaos in his head wasn't good for him.

But what did he expect? Since James' and Lily's death he felt of. He just couldn't imagine a world without them. A world without Peter and Sirius. And what he could imagine even less was Sirius being the traitor. It didn't make sense.

But Dumbledore was so convinced. He said he was already in Azkaban.

Remus wondered when the trial had been. He had asked but Dumbledore had told him he was in shock. That he would get over it eventually and see the truth. And yet he hadn't yet. Maybe he was still in shock. Maybe he would always be. The same way he would always be alone from now on. After all, he had lost all those he loved. Every single one on one night. It hurt. Yeah, he was still probably under shock. But maybe it was from the cold as well. He had been standing still in the snow for too long by now.

Remus started walking. Maybe it would help him calm down. Sort his thoughts. So he walked.


	3. Harry

Harry – a Christmas as a kid

Harry watched as Dudley tore open another present. It was his twelfth. He had been counting. And another twelve were still under the tree. That made twenty-four. He would get a twenty-fifth later. As always. Was Dudley even able to count to twenty-five? Did it matter?

Harry glanced down on his presents. Socks and an old shirt from Dudley. More than he had gotten for his birthday. He looked up back at Dudley who had tossed away a book and tore open another present. Number thirteen.

Aunt Petunia was taking pictures while Uncle Vernon cheered his son on. Dudley pulled out a plastic gun that looked like the one they saw in the TV-ads.

Harry thought they were pretty cool. Maybe if Dudley got bored by it he could get a closer look. But he probably wouldn't allow it. Maybe after he broke it? It never took long with Dudley?

Harry just wished he had gotten his own. But he had learned long ago that would never happen. He should be glad he got what he did and could at least look at Dudley's stuff.

Harry perked up when Dudley pulled a bunch of films from the next present. Harry loved it when Dudley got films. If he was sneaky, he would be able to watch them as well.

He watched how Aunt Petunia planted a kiss on Dudley's cheek and he pulled a face.

Was this how all families looked? Would his life have looked like that if his parents hadn't died in the car-crash?

Sometimes Harry asked himself if it wouldn't have been better if he had died in the car-crash as well.


	4. Neville

Neville – a Christmas as a kid

Neville smiled at his mother and thanked her for the sweets-wrapper. His grandmother tried to take it away immediately but he managed to put it into his pocket before she did. It would be his best present this year and he didn't want to lose it. His grandmother grunted and dragged him away, muttering something about how great Frank, Neville's father, used to be. What an accomplished auror and skilled wizard.

Neville smiled sadly as he followed his grandmother to the hospital's exit, clutching the sweets-wrapper in his hand. He wondered if his grandmother would notice if he disappeared. He wondered if she would notice if his parents did. After all, she only really cared about the son she had lost.

"Neville," she shrieked and he hurried to catch up with her. Yeah, she would notice. At least now that she was sure that he was a wizard. Even though he was a bad one. He would never manage to be as good as his father. He would never make her proud. They had told him that often enough. Neville knew that he was barely a wizard but he loved the wizarding world anyway. It was his home.

When they arrived at home, his grandmother had told Neville he should get dressed. Their guests would be there shortly and she had ordered the houseelves to cook his favourite dishes.

Neville thanked her politely and hurried up the stairs.

He really didn't look forward to the Christmas feast. All invited were adults who would subject him to boring adult-talk and he was sure his grandmother had ordered his father's favourite dish, not his. He was pretty sure she didn't know what he liked. But that was fine. She had so many things to think about. That's why Neville would be a good boy and sit still and listen to the adults talk and eat the dish he didn't really like even though he would have preferred it to stay at the hospital with his parents.


	5. Blaise

Blaise – a Christmas as a kid

He was the only child. As always. Blaise watched the dancing crowd from the corner he had retreated to. He didn't bother trying to find his mother. There was no use in it. He would see her when she wanted him to and wouldn't get a glimpse of her until then. But it was fine. It had always been like this and it didn't really bother Blaise. He was simply used to it.

What he would never get used to was the boredom in the time between dinner and going home where he would finally get his presents. If he behaved. And he always did. Blaise always did as his mother told him. He was polite, quiet and gave short entertaining answers if approached. All in all, he made his mother look good.

That's why he was the only child allowed at these parties. He was made for them.

Blaise watched the people dance. He liked looking at their clothes. It helped against the boredom. He enjoyed fashion and his mother was proud of it.  
"You have to always look perfect, Blaise," she said. "It makes life so much easier." And Blaise always nodded. After all, it was true. That's how his mother got him all those step-fathers with money. That's how he got all the nice clothes. And Blaise didn't complain. They would either leave or die after a short time anyway.

He only wished that one of them would have a kid his age – it would make these parties more entertaining if he had a sister or brother who could go with him. He would have a friend his age. That would be awesome.

Blaise wondered if he could ask his mother for a sibling or a friend as a present. If she was in a good mood after the party it may even work.

Blaise looked up when a voice echoed through the crowd. He watched as a man lit up the huge Christmas tree in the corner of the room and smiled. It was pretty. Not as pretty as the people's clothes but pretty.


	6. Hermione

Hermione – on the run

It was Christmas! Christmas! And she was on the run! She and Harry! Only the two of them.

Her parents were in Australia and had no idea they had a daughter. The Weasleys were trying their best to survive and Ron…. She didn't want to think about Ron. Hermione feared she would cry if she thought about him. She didn't want to cry. No, she couldn't. If she allowed herself the moment of weakness it was possible she would never find the strength to get up again and fight. And she couldn't risk that. No. It was easier to stay strong. To push everything away. To detach herself. Yeah, she was going to do that. Ignore all the pain. Ignore Ron.

She wanted to think about something else but her thoughts returned to the people away from her constantly. Not only Ron. No. Her parents were the ones most prominent on her mind. Hermione wondered how they were doing. Were they celebrating Christmas? How did they do it? Have they kept any of their traditions? Was it even possible to keep them in Australia?

Hermione sighed. She missed her parents so bad. But she knew that it was for the best. They were safe. That's what mattered. She could not allow that they were dragged into the war. The war they were no part of.

Hermione glanced at Harry who was sleeping for once. He was the one at the centre of the war. He was the Chosen one. Or at least, that's what they called him. The other wizards and witches.

Hermione sighed. Did Harry feel as lonely as she did? Did he miss Sirius the way she missed her parents? Or was it different? Hermione thought about all these things but she wasn't going to ask. She was sure she wouldn't be able to stomach that conversation. It was better to not speak of some things. Loneliness was one of them.


End file.
